Bourbon Summer (Bourbon Canyon #6)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ruby

“There’s a band playing at the park,” Tenor said over the steak wraps he’d made for dinner. He’d insisted I see that he could cook. I really didn’t care. Good food was good food.

My weekends with him had spoiled me so much that when I was home, I subsisted on sandwiches and takeout. I couldn’t face cooking my own mediocre meal and then eating it alone.

“Do you like them?” I asked.

He lifted a shoulder. “I’m sure they’re fine. You wanna dance?”

I mimicked his casual shrug. “Only if you want to.”

He set his wrap down. “Would you rather stay in and watch me paint again?”

He made it sound like the bottom-shelf selection, but it actually sounded really nice. It was the middle of July and the area was gorgeous. Still green, not yet too dry, the picture outside Tenor’s window was paradise. If that was the backdrop to my evening? “Sounds like a fine date to me.”

He wiped his fingers off. “You had a lot of fun at the street dance.”

I smiled. “It was fun, but you don’t need to recreate it every time we’re together. I like quiet nights in too.” Most of the time. I pointed to my empty plate. “Especially when it comes with good food. But there is one thing that is missing.”

He lifted his brows. “What?”

“A glass of bourbon.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Bourbon’s best enjoyed with family and friends.”

“And what am I?” When his expression froze, panic rose in my blood. What must he think of me? He’d said casual. No definitions, and here I was, a week later, asking him to define me. I picked up my plate to take to the sink. “I want to study some accounts, and I have a new book. I can pour us some drinks. You don’t even have to tip.”

“Ruby.”

His soft tone got me to stop. “It’s okay, Tenor. Which bourbon do you want?”

“Your pick,” he said quietly.

I took two rocks glasses out of the cupboard and bent to select a bottle that I hadn’t tried yet. He had a bottle from the Copper Summit seventy-five-year anniversary special barrel five years ago.

When I rose, he was standing in front of me. He was working his jaw back and forth like he didn’t know what to say.

I set the small, squat bottle on the counter and put a hand on his chest. “I didn’t mean to make anything awkward.”

“You want more.”

I did. And he wasn’t promising more. It was me. I moved too fast, got too serious, and read too much into the men I dated. But Tenor and I weren’t exactly dating. We were sleeping together.

Yet he’d asked me if I wanted to go to the park. That was date-like.

Confusion swirled in my brain. He wasn’t hot and cold, but he was... stop and go. I couldn’t force him to see me as a green light. He’d crashed and burned before, and for whatever reason, he saw me as a potential head-on collision. Meanwhile, I was stuck in a traffic circle, going round and round. Maybe in twenty-five years, he’d be sending me memes about romance novels. And I’d be my mom, giggling at them, knowing damn well I had never gotten over him.

I’d stay on my circular path until Tenor took a turn. Because I liked him, and there was a chance. I just needed to give him time and not ruin this. “I want to enjoy being with you and doing things that friends don’t do with each other.”

He clasped his hand over mine, holding it to his chest. A divot formed between his brows. Gradually, it went away and his gaze darkened. “What—exactly—is it that friends don’t do with each other?”

The air between us thickened. He gave me an out and I took it. “They don’t think about you naked when you’re painting your models.”

A brow arched. “Is that all?”

I licked my bottom lip and his gaze tracked my tongue. “They don’t get off in each other’s beds.”

His pupils dilated and he crowded closer. “It was only you in my bed.”

My heart started pounding and heat flooded my body. Thank goodness we were beyond the awkwardness. This was a much better place to be. “We can fix that.”

“We can. You know what else friends don’t do?”

Excitement blossomed in my belly, spreading that delicious heat that only Tenor could create. “What?”

“Show you how possible those impossible intimate scenes really are from your books.”

A strangled sound left me. “I’m not sitting on your face.”

He stroked his thumb up and down the side of my wrist. A shiver traced from his touch to right between my legs. A direct path. “Aren’t you just a little curious?”

A lot curious. And a lot mortified. “No.” My voice pitched up.

“Who knew you were a little liar.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I promise you, Ruby, I would very much like that.” He dropped his grip on my hand. “But it’s your choice.”

“It can’t be a good look for a girl.”

His gaze intensified. “It’s the best view.” He trailed his fingers over my collarbone, down the simple crop top I wore to the long, flowing skirt that was more comfortable for hanging out at home. “Those pretty pink folds, open and glistening, begging for my tongue.” He flattened his hand on my hip. “Those legs clamped around my head, and those sweet little moans vibrating through your whole body and right onto my tongue.”

My breathing quickened. Oh god. Was I going to do this?

Why not? Why not try it with a guy who made me feel treasured? This thing between us wasn’t supposed to be serious, and wasn’t that what two people having a fling did?

My heart raced. I was a vanilla girl. I didn’t have much experience outside of vanilla sex. Smothering him with my pussy didn’t feel vanilla.

Was I going to do this?

More importantly—was I going to miss out on the chance?

I lifted my chin. “Okay. Show me that’s not far-fetched.”

Tenor

Her shyness got to me. Dug into my chest real deep.

Was I a bastard for doing this?

I could give her this experience. I could show her how good it could be. How much I really liked it. We hadn’t even started and I knew it’d blow my damn mind.

I should back away. Have perfectly spectacular sex in the bedroom. But she truly didn’t believe a guy would like to have her on his face, all his for the taking. And that was just wrong. I led her to the couch and flipped the red-plaid throw blanket over the cushions.

Ruby glanced toward the window at the sun sinking toward the tops of the trees. “Right here?”

I’d take her anywhere, but I went back to that night when she’d been tucked into the corner of my couch and reading that romance novel with those scenes she didn’t believe. “That night you told me you didn’t believe it was possible? I very much wanted to show you then and there just how feasible it was.”

Her eyes flared the way they always did when I showed real interest. Good thing she couldn’t tell how much I really wanted her. It’d scare both of us away.

I lay on the couch, letting my feet dangle over the armrest, and tossed my glasses onto the end table behind my head. “Come here.”

She stood like a scared little deer and I was the truck bearing down on her.

That was my error. I tapped my chest. “Just stretch out with me first.”

She ran her hands down her skirt. The long fabric was just as sexy on her as the shorter skirts. More important, she felt comfortable in them.

Finally, she did as I asked. I tucked her toward the back of the couch and kept an arm banded around her. “I’m not going to ask you to strip and just crawl on top.”

She chuckled, her muscles relaxing under my hold. “I was kind of scared.”

“No, Ruby. All this is to make you more comfortable about how damn sexy you are.”

She tilted her face up to me, a question in her eyes. Then she smiled. “You’re always so thoughtful.”

There was something else she’d wanted to say. I ran back what I had said.

Right. I’d made it sound like we were back to playing pretend. There was no such thing as fake sex, but I’d made it sound like there was no emotion involved. I couldn’t take that back. Emotions were messy and they did me no good.

I used my fingers to tip her face back up. “I might be thoughtful, but I’m being really fucking selfish right now.” I rocked my hips up so my erection prodded her hip.

A sultry smile graced her face and she turned until our torsos were pressed together. She ground against me. Another groan slipped out of my throat.

“Fuck, Ruby. Keep doing that and I’ll make a mess in my pants.”

She did it again and I stuffed my hand into her hair and brought her lips to mine. She moaned against my lips. When she opened for me, I licked inside and stroked my tongue against hers. The kiss was a promise. That she’d be comfortable with what we were going to do. And that she’d fucking love it.

With my other hand, I bunched up her shirt. I wouldn’t strip her down, but she had to know there was nothing to hide. She pushed up so I could drag the garment over her head. The bra she wore today was light-pink lace.

“I’m going to start here and work my way down.” I tugged the straps down her shoulders, then pulled the lace cups down until her tits popped free.

Her hair swirled around her head, shadowing her face when it hung down. She was biting her bottom lip. The epitome of temptation.

I cupped each breast and rolled her nipple gently between my thumb and forefinger. A tremble went through her and her eyes slid shut. Perfect. She was getting out of her head. I slid my hands around her back and nudged her up so I could suck a pearly nipple into my mouth. Her moan resonated through her chest. Fuck, yes. I had her.

I gave each side equal attention. She was rocking over my stomach. I hadn’t been exaggerating earlier. If she had been doing this over my cock, I’d have blown. That wouldn’t have stopped me, but I wanted this experience to be about her. It’s what I could give her.

As she rocked, I bunched her skirt up and hooked my fingers around her underwear. For only a brief moment, she stiffened before she moved her legs so I could drag the panties off.

I released her tight bud with a pop. Lust hazed her eyes when she looked down at me. The flush on her cheeks was from me and I’d never get tired of putting it there. I could do it for an eternity.

I shoved the thought away and kneaded her ass cheeks before feathering my hand around her hip and down the inside of her thigh until I hit her wet heat. “I really want to taste you now.”

I teased her, slipping a finger through her seam, touching on her clit and then reversing direction. She wiggled her hips, seeking more, trying to demand release. I wouldn’t give it to her. Not yet.

“Do you want that?” I asked.

She swiveled her hips. “Yes.”

I pushed a finger inside her tight pussy and withdrew it. She let out a whine.

Yes .

My erection pounded against my zipper. Soon.

I pushed into her again and a shudder rippled down her body.

“Ride it, Ruby.”

She did. Greedily. Her tits were still spilled out of her bra. The show would haunt my dreams and rob me of sleep. Likewise, it’d get me through the next ten years of abstinence when it was time to let her go.

And she would want to go. It was inevitable.

Until then . . .

I took my finger out, loving how she sagged with disappointment, and urged her to crawl up. “Get on.”

She scrambled up, and I helped her. At the very peak of her ascent, when her skirt was smothering me instead of her wet heat, she paused.

“You’re going to fucking kill me if you don’t get that pussy on my tongue,” I growled.

That was enough to coax her the rest of the way.

Finally .

Her skirt draped over my head like a tent, but I didn’t care. Her legs quivered as I sought out her clit, licking and nibbling. I had an ass cheek in each hand and I devoured her, stopping only to say, “So fucking good.”

She was shaking, her climax only moments away. “I can’t believe—” she moaned. “Tenor. Don’t stop.”

From disbelieving to begging. I grinned as much as I could with my tongue busy. Using the same finger as before, I pumped in and out of her. She cried out after the first wave of her orgasm crashed into her.

She gripped and squeezed my finger as she bucked. I held her to me.

“God, Tenor! Yes!” She rode me, milking every last drop of pleasure I could give her.

She pitched forward and I caught her.

“Stay right where you are,” I said against her thigh. “I’m going to take you from behind.”

Carefully, I slid out from under her. She had one leg propped on the floor and the other stuffed into the cushions. Without my hair to hold on to, she was clutching the back of the couch and the armrest.

The sultry, satisfied way she looked over her shoulder at me was another image I’d never forget. A thoroughly sexed Ruby, on my couch, waiting for me to fuck her.

I yanked my zipper down and freed my dick. I hissed. The harsh movements were nearly painful and she was the only relief.

“Tenor?” Her eyes dropped down to my erection. “Take me hard and fast. Okay? It’s what you need.”

I couldn’t respond. I did need it.

I hitched her skirt up, appreciating the creamy round ass presented before me, and placed myself at her entrance.

I slipped my hand around her hip. She stopped my progression with hers and shook her head. “Hard and fast, Tenor. Fuck me hard and fast.”

I thrust into her. She was so damn soaked and I slid home like we were meant to fit together like this for eternity.

“Ruby.” My body shook as I held myself still. It was a plea. All the sex I’d ever had hadn’t been about me. I had studied it as diligently as I attacked everything else. I made it good for my partner. If it was good for her, it was good for me. I’d already gotten Ruby off, but this would be all about me. All about my pleasure. All of it.

“Fuck me, Tenor.”

My hips kicked of their own accord, and I kept going. Fingers digging into her waist, I pounded into her, grunting like a fucking animal. Her moans mingled with mine. The slapping of our flesh filled the room, and when my climax hit me with the force of a freight train, I roared her name.

My breathing was heavy as I caught myself from collapsing onto her and spilling both of us onto the end table.

“Goddamn, Ruby.” Her body still pulsed around me.

She let out a satisfied giggle. “That was nice. Very believable, Warhammer.”

I ran my hands up and down her body. Her tits still hung out and I was getting hard again just thinking about it.

The build of my arousal was a nice distraction from how Ruby let me be myself. From how her complete acceptance of me made me think there could really be something substantial between us. “Tell me. Is there anything else you’ve read that you don’t think could really happen?”

She turned her face into mine. “I’m not sure even you could replicate zero gravity.”

“That may be out of my realm of possibility.” I kissed her bare shoulder. “How about you research while I paint?”

“You’re not talking about social media posts, are you?”

“Nope.” I skimmed my hand up her thigh. “Come up with a few things to try out so we can do them next weekend too.”

“Is that another invite?”

I’d invite her every weekend if I could. Move her in and?—

Fuck, I couldn’t get too far ahead of myself. I should push it off. Skip a weekend. But in this case, I was the anti-Goldilocks. Every weekend was too much, but at the same time, it was not enough. Damn.

Buried balls deep in her wasn’t the place to think rationally. “Next weekend, Goldilocks.”